


Love Again.

by 3BeesAndCoffee3



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Bucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve and Bucky live together, bucky barnes recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3BeesAndCoffee3/pseuds/3BeesAndCoffee3
Summary: He forces himself out of bed, letting out a tired sigh as he makes it sluggishly to the window, limbs sleepy and slow, and he looks out the window and the world is white. It’s piling high and it’s blinding and he can practically feel the familiar bite of frost on his numb limbs. He can feel his back hitting rocks as he’s drug limply through the ice and snow, delirious with cold and pain. He can smell iron, taste it too, he can see streaks of red in the soft looking snow and he closes the curtains quickly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: [My Blog](http://hey-kids-want-some-avengers.tumblr.com/)

He wakes up, roles over slowly in bed, hair tangled, stubble along his jaw, and his limbs tired and sleepy, his metal arm aching just a little more than he’s used to and he sits up because it’s bright out for how early it is, and lord knows Bucky doesn’t sleep in. Can’t sleep in.

He forces himself out of bed, letting out a tired sigh as he makes it sluggishly to the window, limbs sleepy and slow, and he looks out the window and the world is white. It’s piling high and it’s blinding and he can practically feel the familiar bite of frost on his numb limbs. He can feel his back hitting rocks as he’s drug limply through the ice and snow, delirious with cold and pain. He can smell iron, taste it too, he can see streaks of red in the soft looking snow and he closes the curtains quickly.

His heart is thundering in his ears from that alone, pounding in his chest until it practically hurts. He closes his eyes, runs a hand through his hair, working out the knots, tries to focus on where he is now. Tries to think about now and not then, but he’s avoided this weather as long as he could and as stupid as it is, because fuck, he knows it’s stupid, he can’t help it. Cold and Bucky Barnes do not get along.

He knows, because he’s been here a million times before, and Steve put a name to this state of adrenaline and panic he falls into continuously, but he can’t seem to calm himself down as he works himself into another panic attack. He used to deal with nearly five a day, triggered randomly, Steve had tried, and failed to convince him to see someone, a professional someone, but he’d been better until now so they’d let it go. His legs feel a little like jelly, and his head is hot and swimming with too many thoughts while his heart actually tries to escape his rib cage and he just sort of falls back into his bed.

His back hits the mattress first and in a blur of movement he’s enclosing himself in a ball again.  
He curls into himself, knees to his chest, blankets tangled around his feet and his hands over his ears. It muffles the sounds around him, what little of it there was, but then he’s left with the thundering of his heart and it’s not very helpful. He breathes in, holds it for as long as he can manage because that’s what Steve would tell him to do. Then, slowly, he lets it out again, shoulders slumping as he squeezes his eyes shut until he’s seeing black and white splotches dance across his vision.

He repeats the process, in and out, in and out, imagining Steve’s hand spread over the back of his shoulder, fingers working at his taut muscles. He’s not here of course and there’s no way Bucky could consciously go get Steve without feeling like he just took a million steps back, but it’s a nice thought.

He used to end up screaming, thrashing from nightmares until the sheets were soaked with sweat and the nightstand was tipped over, glass and porcelain from the lamp scattered across the floor. Steve would run in after that. He’d come rushing into the room with his eyes wide, hair a mess and only wearing whatever he’d gone to bed in. He would stay with Bucky as long as he needed, comforting any way he could. Then, after those mostly passed, he would get up himself, creep across the wooden floors without too much trouble and knock shakily on Steve’s door until either Steve had him come in, or Steve went back to bed with Bucky.

He couldn’t count how many times Steve had to reassure him that it was okay, that Steve didn’t mind. Now that he was supposedly better, and that was a loose term he really only used to make himself feel like he wasn’t drowning, there was no way in hell he could get himself to ask for Steve, not after everything he’s done for Bucky, because he’s done everything for him.

He can feel stinging in his throat, in his eyes, but he doesn’t want to cry, he’s not sure he can cry, because he’s still tense all over, shaking through stiff muscles.

There’s a knock at the door and Bucky practically peels himself from his own skin. He’s not completely sure some high pitched noise didn’t just escape his throat either. Once he’s less shaken, or at least calm enough to try and use the vocal chords that have a tendency to turn to cement whenever he’s like this, he does try. He stays in the ball he’s curled himself into though.

“Yeah,” he forces out and it’s a little raspy, like he’s lost his voice recently-which he hasn’t, but it’s there.

The door opens swiftly, but gently. There’s a difference and Bucky knows it because he’s lost his temper before or panicked and swung the door just a little harder than he meant and the doorknob has busted holes in the plaster. Steve steps in smiling all sleepily and holding two mugs and he looks so ridiculously domestic that it would be making Bucky giddy right now if he could just stop shaking. He hates himself for it.

He sees Steve’s face fall when his eyes really settle on Bucky and he finds that after all this time, there’s still room to hate himself more and for more reasons. “Buck?”

Bucky mumbles something he guesses is supposed to be some form of answer but he’s not surprised that Steve doesn’t take it as one.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks carefully, and he’s by his side in a second, setting the mugs on the nightstand and crouching down in front of him. He looks at Bucky worriedly and Bucky feels sick. He hates having to look at him right now, acting like a complete idiot, helpless and scared.

“Nothing, I’m okay,” but Bucky doesn’t believe his own mouth when the words slip out in a practiced manner Steve clearly doesn’t believe anymore.

“What happened?” Steve frowns and he’s still got those massive, ridiculous puppy eyes, even after all these years.

“I don’t know,” Bucky mutters and at least that’s not a complete lie. He’s not entirely sure what did happen, he just knows it was enough to send him into a spiraling cloud of fear and flashing memories.

“Talk to me,” Steve says softly, like he’s some kind of therapist and he guesses, really, Steve is kind of his therapist.

Bucky edges himself back a little so Steve can maybe sit on the bed instead of the floor, if he wants. Bucky wants him to, really, but he wouldn’t say it for a number of reasons. “Just snow, I guess,” he says quietly, he’s surprised Steve can even hear him but doesn’t wanna say anything any louder and he knows Steve wouldn’t ever make him.

Steve raises an eyebrow but it’s just inquisitive without the judgment. He looks both concerned and curious.

“I just remembered stuff,” Bucky clarifies and judging by the nod and change in his expression, Steve gets it now.

“Because of the snow?” Steve asks and he knows he’s only asking to make sure he’s not wrong. He always worries about misunderstanding him in these situations.

Bucky nods and Steve stands up slowly, sits on the edge of the bed by Bucky’s feet and holds out his arms like an awkward side hug. Bucky sighs softly and makes himself sit up. Steve smiles softly when he does and that alone makes it worth it. Bucky sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed like Steve and faces the wall, even though Steve’s looking at him.

Bucky doesn’t do anything and Steve doesn’t say a word, just closes his arms around Bucky’s middle, pulls him close into his side and Bucky buries his face into the crook of his neck and looses his restraint. His body goes slack against him and tears start streaming down his cheeks, falling onto Steve’s shoulder and Bucky’s chest and he hates himself for this too, but they won’t stop and he’s making small, hiccuping noises as he tries to breathe between what are turning into sobs.

Steve rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s back, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he stays to the right side. He can’t tell if he likes that or not.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Steve comforts and Bucky figures he probably does understand.

“I kinda thought I was over this,” Bucky hiccups, face buried in Steve’s shoulder. He’s radiating heat and Bucky’s clinging to it like a cat. He feels Steve laugh a little.

“It’s okay, here,” Steve moves, almost peeling himself from Bucky’s grasp but not quite. He doesn’t quite convince himself to look up until he can see steam and smell warm, dark chocolate in front of his nose. “Cocoa?”

Bucky nods, biting his lip but he’s smiling a little now, even though he doesn’t mean to. Steve has that affect on him. Bucky accepts the mug Steve’s holding out, it’s filled nearly to the brim with creamy hot chocolate, there are a few melting marshmallows on top too and he appreciates the action more than he can explain. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve smiles widely and grabs his own mug, the contents sloshing around but not spilling over. “Of course, do you feel a little better?”

Bucky nods a little, he’s staring at his Cocoa for lack of somewhere better to look. He’s not quite ready to look at Steve after that, even though Steve doesn’t think any less of him, he knows he doesn’t, but that doesn’t change anything, really. Blame his dignity, whatever he has left of it.

“Do you want to talk?” Steve asks after a minute of quiet. Bucky sighs softly, metal finger clinking against the mug anxiously. He needs to talk, because Mr. therapist Rogers over here had taught him keeping it in, as horrendously corny as it sounds, was just about the worst thing you could do. So far he hasn’t been proven wrong, but he hates having to face these things, but it’s how he gets past them, so he gives in.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says quietly, in that nonchalant way that makes it seem like less of a big deal than it is.

Steve nods and rests his chin on his hand. Bucky tries not to stare when he glances over, but Steve’s staring at him with doe eyes and a tiny bit of cocoa at the corner of his mouth that makes him look so unbelievably innocent he has to try not to laugh.

Bucky takes a sip of his cocoa, it’s warm but not too hot, which he’s thankful for. “I just, I don’t do cold anymore, I guess,” he mumbles, because he feels stupid. “After all of it, you know?”

Steve probably doesn’t know but he nods anyways.

“I knew it was coming, it’s been cold and it’s-it was okay, I just stayed inside more, wore more layers,” he continued, staring down as he spoke. He knows if he looks at Steve, he’ll see nothing but sympathy and support but he’s not ready to see that.

“I thought you normally just wore five sweaters at once,” Steve teases and it’s on a light enough note that Bucky huffs out a laugh, flashing him a fake-annoyed look while he’s at it.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugs and finds himself smiling like an idiot. “I dunno, just waking up to it, and everything just sorta came rushing back before I could take it in, the train, after,” Bucky stops because he sees Steve frown.

“It’s okay,” Steve says honestly, waving his fingers slightly while still holding his cup. His drink is already half way gone.

Bucky waits a second before sighing and nodding. “I just freaked out, is all.”

“Why didn’t you get me?”

Bucky doesn’t miss the hurt in his voice, because he never misses things with Steve. It’s a curse and a blessing. “I don’t know,” he says quietly.

“Yes you do,” Steve says simply.

“I didn’t want to bother you anymore.”

“You don’t bother me, Buck,” Steve smiles and he scoots over a little, closer to Bucky.

Bucky’s thought about them. Just the two of them, what they were before, what they are now. He’s spent too much time thinking about it, more than likely, but he can’t seem to help it. Steve makes his stomach flutter up to his chest and it’s vague and familiar and he can almost, almost place it. He’s caught himself staring at Steve while he talks, not even just listening intently, but actually trying to memorize every inch of Steve’s face. It’s different, even since war, there’s a million things, tiny scars and bumps and he missed every one appear, so he doesn’t want to miss another bit of his life. It’s almost scary, just how much he cares about Steve, but he knows for a fact Steve feels the same way, he’s proven it time and time again.

It makes it a little less scary, knowing Steve’s more or less on the same page, but it’s still not something he thinks about if he can help it.

Maybe it’s a little more than it used to be, but that gets complicated, and it’s not that he hasn’t seen the way Steve looks at him, because he’s looked at pretty girls with that same look countless times before, but he doesn’t want to risk getting it wrong. He can’t, and he doesn’t.

“Got it?” Steve pulls him back to reality and he’s been staring at Steve the whole time. Again. He’s smiling at Bucky, kind of a half, lopsided smile, and it’s kind  
.  
“Okay,” Bucky agrees carefully. He doesn’t want to, but Steve won’t rest until he agrees, so he decides to go without a fight. “You have some, uh,” Bucky gestures to his face, mouth more roughly because he’s not sure he can keep staring at his lips. There’s something wrong with him.

“Hm?” Steve actually tilts his head to the side like he’s a puppy and Bucky dies a little.

 

“Cocoa, on your mouth,” Bucky forces out and Steve grins in realization.  
“Oh, oops,” he laughs, wipes it off easily and licks it off his hand. Steve looks back up at Bucky, and they both pause, staring at each other and Bucky’s vaguely aware that his mouth his hanging open a little.

They stay like that, only maybe a foot between them and Bucky can feel his heart beating fast. He’s not sure when this became a thing, because they aren’t and certainly never were a thing, like that. Like this. But this, it’s something, and he has no idea how to feel except scared. He remembers two guys, he went to camp with them at some point, they’d been caught with a dick in the others mouth and their Sargent had beat the living shit out of them until their skin was black and blue, cut up bad enough they needed stitches. It wasn’t just that either, but he knew these people–people like that weren’t in a good place with the law, and Bucky had more than enough of that.

Bottom line, he’d never caught himself thinking about another guy’s dick, or kissing a man, he’d only ever thought of pretty dames and soft curves and long, pretty hair. He’d made sure that was the only thing he thought about too. Until now, he hadn’t anyways. There had always been something between them, he guessed, he could see it, but he’d never thought about it to the point it had become obvious.

“It’s okay,” Steve says under his breath for what feels like the twelfth time today, but he leans forwards this time, closing the space between them slowly enough Bucky could move if he wanted, but he doesn’t move because he has no idea what he wants and he knows exactly what Steve’s doing, but no clue why and he doesn’t really care enough to move away, so he doesn’t.

Every thought fluttering through Bucky’s head like untamed animals was instantly put to rest the second Steve’s lips touch Bucky’s. They’re soft, and even though he doesn’t really remember the girls he’s kissed after all this time specifically, he’s pretty sure Steve’s are softer. He can taste chocolate on his lips and on the hint of his tongue that flicks over Bucky’s lips. He’s kissing back, he’s more than aware, but he tries to block it out this time and just accept the fact that this is them. Whatever this is.

The kiss ends after an eternity. Bucky’s face feels warm all over and he looks at Steve and laughs under his breath at just how flushed Steve’s face is. They’re a few inches apart, sharing each others breath and Steve’s hand is on Bucky’s thigh, rubbing it gently like he does sometimes. It’s calming.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, figures it’s probably better that he doesn’t, just in case he says something stupid, and with the way his chest his pounding and his tongue feels like it weighs a ton, it’s likely to happen.

Steve is the one who says something, after a long pause, looking at each other carefully. Bucky’s not sure how to feel, Steve looks just as unsure and confused. “I’ve been waiting to do that,” he says softly, smiling shyly at Bucky. Bucky’s face is stone.

“You have?” Bucky says dumbly and Steve grins.

“It wasn’t until I got you back that I realized when I was a kid, it wasn’t just admiration I felt for you. I’ve lost you too many times, Buck, it makes people wise up a little,” Steve shrugs and he’s blushing even more than he was before, he looks like he’s about ready to explode. It’s comical and endearing.

Bucky just clears his throat, doesn’t have any idea what to say. He can hardly imagine Steve wanting him like this, especially after the hell he’s put him through. He’s saying it to his face though, and even though his head lies to him some times-more times than he’d care to admit-he knows this is real.

Steve looks at him for a long time, he still doesn’t say anything and so, as usual Steve seems to read his mind. “It’s okay now,” Steve starts, and Bucky looks at him. “To be like us, I mean.”

“Gay,” Bucky clarifies and Steve rubs the back of his neck awkwardly with a little laugh.

“Yeah, its legal now, no big thing really,” Steve assures, every word making Bucky feel a little safer, Steve’s words just have that affect on him for some reason.

“When did that happen?” He asks because he’s actually curious, and he hates how much he’s missed. He feels like when he’s not locked up in his room or with Steve, that he’s living in some alien world. It is kind of alien, really, because it’s certainly not the Great Depression, and it’s not Hydra, it’s completely new and it’s hard to adjust to. Steve does a better job than Bucky does with this, but he helps when he can, which he appreciates fully.

“Few years ago,” Steve nods, leaning back on his arms so he’s reclined on the bed. He looks relaxed and Bucky wishes he felt like that, but this is all still alarming and yet so right that it’s hard to grasp. He wants Steve too, but he’s not even sure he can have him, or should. “The president legalized it, rainbows all over and everything,”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and Steve grins at the ceiling. “They’re getting married and everything. Guys, girls, you name it.”

“That sounds nice,” Bucky says honestly and Steve looks at him with a soft grin.

“Yeah?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“I think so too, it makes things easier, with us, right?” Steve asks a little hesitantly.

Bucky stops because he actually does need to think, but the two of them have been through hell and back together and he felt at rest when Steve kissed him, and that was all that mattered, right? Nothing was wrong anymore, not illegal, he wouldn’t be in trouble, instead he could feel safe, maybe more at peace, it sounded kind of simple. “Yeah, I guess it does,” Bucky agrees finally, taking another long drink of his Cocoa that was now cooling rapidly.

“It’ll be okay, you know that right?” Steve sounds concerned, probably because Bucky’s been worrying his lip between his teeth for the majority of the conversation and he can’t seem to stop bouncing his leg, but he can’t help it, he feels giddy and kind of terrified, but in the best way.

“I think so,” Bucky mumbles, nodding slightly as he does. It feels right, and even though he’s not sure when the last time he listened to his gut was, he’s going to now.

“Good,” Steve smiles, leaning over and pecking a quick kiss on Bucky’s cheek. It makes his heart flutter strangely and his cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and it’s so unbelievably foreign he wants to laugh, but maybe after all this time and after all this hurt, he’s ready to accept love again.


End file.
